


Earth Eighteen

by brinshannara



Series: 52 Times Alex and Maggie Met [10]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Earth, F/F, M/M, Multiverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-23 06:02:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23273419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brinshannara/pseuds/brinshannara
Summary: In an alternate universe that is very similar to Earth Thirty-Eight, Detective Sawyer and Agent Danvers meet at the airport, but with one big difference. How does that one difference affect the history between them that we all know and love?
Relationships: Alex Danvers & Maggie Sawyer, Alex Danvers/Maggie Sawyer
Series: 52 Times Alex and Maggie Met [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/987597
Comments: 47
Kudos: 95





	Earth Eighteen

**Author's Note:**

> I want to give you all a heads up here and let you know that this will be a very different Detective Sawyer and Agent Danvers. Having said that, I hope that you'll push through the big difference here and that you'll give me the benefit of the doubt. It's weird, I know, but I think I made them recognizable enough that this works.
> 
> It might not be your cup of tea. This isn't even generally MY cup of tea. But I did enjoy the challenge in writing it and I hope you'll give it a chance.
> 
> Thanks to taintedidealist, performativezippers and Lurkz for getting me unstuck on this. <3
> 
> As always, comments and kudos remind me that, though I write primarily for myself, others do appreciate it when I put my stuff out there. Thanks for reading. :)

Detective Sawyer was crouching down, speaking to another agent on the scene, pointing out potential pieces of evidence in the marked area. It was debris from the attack on the president, so it was likely important. They chatted for a minute or two when another agent stormed over to them.

"Hey, what the hell do you think you're doing to my crime scene?" asked the agent. He was tall, fair-skinned, clean-shaven and dressed in a suit. As feds tended to be. He was cute, as far as feds went, with his reddish-brown hair parted to the side, though the sides were looking a little unkempt, particularly in the breeze. The agent seemed in need of a light trim.

"Anyone ever tell you all you feds sound the same?" the detective complained, almost good naturedly. "It's like you all watch the same bad movies together at Quantico."

The attempt at humour clearly didn't charm the agent. "Who are you?" he demanded, all business.

"Detective Mark Sawyer, NCPD Science Division," he said, pulling out his badge. "We handle all cases involving aliens and things that go bump in the night," he said, flipping his credentials open. "Showed you mine," he said. "Show me yours."

"Alex Danvers, Secret Service," he said, flashing his badge before returning it to his back pocket. The taller man looked down at Sawyer. "I'm sure you mean well, Detective," he said, "but this is a federal crime scene. You're contaminating my evidence."

"I'm contaminating it?" he said, incredulously. "Your lackey over there is bagging charred carpet and crispy limo into the same ziplock." He paused. "I thought the Secret Service would play closer attention to detail." Mark knew he was being annoying, but where did this fed get off in calling it _his_ crime scene? As if he didn't have the right to be there, too?

The agent frowned and took a couple of steps towards him, no doubt trying to intimidate him. He was taller, sure, but his chest wasn't quite as broad as his own. Mark thought he would have a decent chance at taking him in a one-on-one combat situation. "We have technology that makes your city PD lab look like an Easy-Bake Oven," he rumbled.

Mark wasn't one to stand down. In fact, he took a step closer to Danvers. "And us dumb local cops would never deduce that the president's assailant was either Kryptonian or Infernian," he said, tilting his head. "Both species have heat vision."

The agent looked down at him. "Thank you, we'll take it from here," he said, a touch too kindly.

Always stubborn, Mark smiled. "The airport's within my jurisdiction," he pointed out.

"Your jurisdiction," he said, straightening up, "ends where I say it does." He folded his arms across his chest.

Mark nearly snorted. This had turned into a pissing contest. And as much as he would have liked to win, he knew there wasn't much he could do against the Secret Service. So Mark nodded and looked back up at the other man. "See ya 'round, Danvers," he smiled widely, showing off his dimples, and headed off to his patrol car. He took great pleasure in knowing that he'd frustrated the agent.

***

The warehouse was a bust; the alien had cleared out before he'd arrived. Still, Mark thought he might find a clue or two and was in the middle of investigating things when a gruff voice called out at him.

"Hands where I can see them!"

Mark raised his arms and turned around, and could have laughed at the look on Agent Danvers' face as he lowered the hand-held cannon.

"Fancy fire power for a fed," he quipped.

"Clear the warehouse," Danvers ordered.

"Don't bother, your girl's gone."

"How'd you find this place?"

"I'm a detective, Agent Danvers. I detect," he said, always ready with a smart remark.

He rolled his eyes and looked away.

He lowered his arms, putting his hands on his hips. "I've heard stories of a black ops anti-alien strike team."

Danvers picked up something that was lying on the ground as he continued.

"Sounded like the boogeyman, but here you stand. You're DEO, aren't you?" he accused.

"Winnie," Danvers said, over comms, ignoring him, "we missed her, she could be anywhere."

"So it's gonna be like that?" he scoffed.

"For the love of… What do you _want_ , Sawyer?" Danvers snapped.

"I want you to answer my question." He folded his arms across his chest, setting his jaw.

With a sigh, Danvers looked over at him. "Fine, yes, I'm DEO. Are we good, now? I have a rogue alien to find who was likely behind the assassination attempt."

He smiled widely, feeling _ridiculously_ proud of himself as he approached. "Thanks for the confirmation, Danvers, it'll be good for us dumb local cops to have an in at the DEO. Here." He dug into his pocket and handed the agent his card. "You know, in case you need an Easy-Bake Oven."

Mark caught a glimpse of something that resembled a smile from the agent. He was cute. Danvers pulled out one of his own cards, and snagged a pen from one of his innumerable hidden pockets in his tactical outfit. He flipped the card around and scribbled something on the back. "For emergencies," he said, handing Mark the card.

He accepted it and tucked it into his wallet, which he returned to the back pocket of his jeans. "So what are you after?"

Danvers frowned. "What do you mean, what am I after?"

"Well, is it an Infernian or a Kryptonian?"

"Ah, right. Kryptonian, probably. You hear anything?"

He shook his head. "I'll let you know if I do, though."

"Thanks, Sawyer. I, uh." He cleared his throat. "I appreciate it."

"Sure," he said. "See ya 'round, Danvers." With that, he walked back through the warehouse the way he came, smiling to himself.

***

After making some calls, Mark decided it was time to go to the bar to get some info. He put on his jacket and, almost as an afterthought, pulled out Danvers' card from his wallet. The back had his cell number on it. While it wasn't an emergency, Mark bet that Danvers would want to join him at the bar. Throwing caution to the wind, he dialed the number.

"Danvers," the agent said by way of greeting.

"Wanna see how us local cops deal with aliens?"

"Sure," he said. "Text me the address. I'll be there soon."

Soon enough, he was outside the door to the bar and saw Alex drive up into the alleyway on his Ducati. Mark watched as the taller man pulled off his helmet and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Nice ride," he commented. "Got a Triumph Bonneville T100 at home myself." He turned towards a doorway.

"What are we doing here?" he asked.

"I thought I'd buy you a drink," Mark said, over his shoulder.

He walked up to the door and knocked three times. When the view port opened, he gave the password. "Donnywood."

Donny Parton's _Here You Come Again_ played in the background as they entered the bar, perhaps answering Danvers' unasked question as to the choice of the password.

"Two beers, Darryl," he called out to his ex, who was clearing a table and bringing stuff back to the bar.

"Coming up, Mark," he replied.

Danvers seemed distinctly unimpressed with the bar. "So _this_ is your big hook-up? A dive bar?" He gave things a cursory glance and walked towards the bar.

"Things aren't always what they appear, Danvers," Mark warned. "Look around. What do you see?"

"People who have made questionable life choices."

Mark almost chuckled at that, appreciating the agent's sense of humour. "Look closer," he encouraged. He watched as Danvers noted a punk woman who had a green hand. He watched with further interest as the blonde guy at the table nearby looked Danvers over, the inner membrane of his eye blinking sideways. Mark saw the warning signs of someone starting to get nervous as Danvers looked down the bar and saw an alien woman with pointed, wiggling ears.

So he was ready for it when Danvers went for his gun, which was tucked into the waistband of his jeans at the small of his back.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he said, grabbing Danvers' powerful forearm. "Easy, easy," he said, guiding him away from the bar and towards a table.

"What the hell is this place?" Danvers whispered.

"It's a safe haven," he explained. "A place for off-worlders to hang out, have a drink. Not feel so alone for a minute."

"So this is where you get all your information about the alien populace in National City," he said, standing by the stool on one side of the table.

"They also make a mean peach mojito," he quipped, standing across from him.

Darryl came up to them and unceremoniously placed the beers down before looking at Danvers. "You moved on quick," he muttered to Mark.

Danvers frowned as he watched him walk away. "That waiter," he said, turning back to him, "is he a Roltikkon?"

"Yes, he is," Mark replied.

"I've read Roltikkon can form telepathic connections by making physical contact with the dorsum of the tongue."

"How do you think he learned English? He's my ex."

He paused as he absorbed the information. "Oh!" he said, looking back towards Darryl.

"I don't strictly date aliens, for the record. Though, I do like them more than most humans," Mark volunteered.

"Why?"

"I can relate to them, I guess," he said, his voice dropping a little lower than usual. "Growing up a non-white, non-straight guy in Blue Springs, Nebraska?" He chuckled. "I might as well have been from Mars. I was an outcast, and I felt like it." He shook his head. "Our alien neighbours, they're no different. Most of them are hardworking immigrants, or refugees, just trying to get by. They have to hide who they are in order to survive. I can sympathize with that."

"Who's your handsome friend, Mark?" Wanda, one of his regular informants, walked up to them, her long, dark hair framing her face.

"Careful," he warned, "he likes shooting aliens."

"Meh. A few of us deserve it," she acknowledged, gazing at Danvers, the skin on her forehead moving unnaturally for a human.

"I need some info," he said to the alien. "We're looking for a Kryptonian. Fresh in town, about 5'5", brown hair, grey eyes."

"May have seen someone who fit that description," the woman said.

"Get to the good stuff, the President's life is in danger," he urged.

"He's not my president."

Danvers reached out and delicately grasped the alien's hand, twisting it ever-so-slightly. The alien reacted immediately, sucking air through her teeth.

It impressed Mark. Danvers' form of _encouragement_ might not have been something he would have done, but it was just the right amount of pain and didn't cause a scene.

"All right, easy," the alien said. She looked up at Danvers. "She seemed lost, confused."

"Do you know where she is or not?" Danvers asked, not yet relinquishing the alien's hand.

"No."

A disgusted look on his face, he let Wanda have her hand back.

"But she was asking about space vectors, star coordinates, deep space transmissions…"

"Why?" asked Sawyer.

"She was trying to send out a signal."

"What kind of signal?"

At that, Alex turned and headed for the door. Mark was sure he'd figured something out.

"ET phone home," Wanda replied, Mark still watching Alex.

A redheaded man bumped into Alex as he strode towards the door.

"Excuse you," he spat, as the redhead ignored him and headed for the bar.

Mark watched him go. Pity, it would have been nice to chat with him longer. He seemed to take the news of Mark's being gay well. While the odds of Danvers also being gay were small, Mark could tell he was brilliant. If he could loosen up a bit, particularly around aliens, Agent Alex Danvers might actually be someone he would want to hang out with.

***

Mark sat on the bed in the lab, flexing his left arm. It still ached. But at least it was over. The Infernian was in custody and he was safe. Thanks to Danvers. And Superman, he added, as an afterthought. He wasn't much impressed by Superwoman's cousin. Superboy would have been a better name; he didn't look much over 20.

Mark looked up as Danvers walked over, folding his arms across his chest.

"This place is _sick_ ," Mark exclaimed. "Like Jamie-Bond-bad-guy-hideout sick!"

Danvers nodded. "Yeah, we have our moments," he allowed. "Minor first-degree burn and bruised collarbone," he noted. "Should be fine in a few days."

"Gee, I didn't think you cared," Mark smiled, showing off his dimples.

"Yeah, well…" he scoffed, looking uncomfortable.

"I'm just kidding!" Mark added, quickly. "I owe you big. You saved my life."

He nodded, looking relieved. "Happy to." He paused, thinking. "You did something for me, too, you know. I, uhm, I've been hunting aliens for so long that I never really stopped to consider that maybe they weren't all hostiles to be caged." He brought his arms down, relaxing his defensive stance.

He smiled in approval, nodding. "You know, I don't really do well with partners, but I think we made a pretty good team."

"Yeah, I guess we did," Danvers said, putting his hands on his hips.

Mark hopped off the bed and reached for his jacket.

"You should really get some rest," Danvers said. "You know, you can stay here if you want."

"No, I can't," he muttered, pulling on the jacket with some difficulty.

"What, you got a hot date or something?" he teased.

"Actually, I do," he confirmed, "and I don't want to leave the gentleman waiting. So… seeya 'round, Danvers." With a smile, he turned and walked out of the lab, hoping his boyfriend wouldn't give him trouble over his getting captured. He already thought Mark was obsessed with work and getting captured wasn't going to change his mind any. As he made his way out of the building, he felt genuine regret that he couldn't stay and talk to Danvers more.

***

"I swear, Mark, you never _think_!" Ryan yelled.

"Hon, come on, I'm fine. I'm okay," he tried to reassure him. Things were not going well. This was at least the third fight they'd had about work in the last month. The incident from a couple of weeks ago where the Infernian alien had captured him during his attack on the president had _not_ gone over well. And now, his boyfriend wasn't taking his latest hijinx very well.

"You went after Roulette and now he knows who you are! How is that _okay_? He runs a fucking crime syndicate and now they'll come after you!"

Mark sighed. "Ry. It's fine. I'm a cop. I can handle myself."

He shook his head. "You hard-headed, stubborn _idiot_. Running off to an alien fight club with a fed? Not even telling me about it? How insensitive can you get?"

"Ryan, it was for work!"

"And that's another thing," he said, pacing, "you're fucking obsessed with work. Your job comes first, before everything, even me."

Mark felt the conversation getting away from him. He could feel his boyfriend slipping away. "Ryan, I'm trying to make sergeant. I have to put in the time," he tried to explain.

"At the cost of time with me. You're spending more time with that Danvers guy lately than you are with your own boyfriend."

"What, like it's my fault all this shit has to do with aliens and I happen to have a contact with the feds?" Mark scoffed.

"Do you even recognize that I have _feelings_?"

"Of course I know you have feelings."

"Well, you don't act like it, because you keep putting _every fucking thing_ else in your life over me and my feelings. You're practically a sociopath."

He sighed, absorbing the jab. "Ryan, just… come on. Let's talk about this like adults."

He was already putting on his jacket. "There's nothing else to talk about, Mark. It's clear to me that your work is way more important to you than I am, that your partnership with that dumb fed is more important than your partnership with me. And, frankly, I'm done. I'm done."

"Ryan, be reasonable."

"I am. _You're_ the unreasonable one," he spat. "I'm fucking done with this bullshit. I don't want to hear from you again, I don't want to see you again. Got it?"

Mark gritted his teeth. "Fine."

"Have a nice life, Mark," he said, as he opened the door and left.

Mark slammed the door shut and locked it. "Fuck," he breathed, as he turned and leaned against the door, letting the tears come.

***

"He dumped _you_?" Danvers was incredulous. "Who would _do_ that?"

"He did. Convincingly." Mark didn't want to talk about it and regretted saying anything to Danvers about it.

"Well, maybe it was just a fight," he offered, as they approached the bar.

The insults and jabs from the other day were still fresh in his mind. "Well, he said I was hard-headed, insensitive, obsessed with work…"

"That's not so bad."

"Also, borderline sociopathic, and, uh, he never wants to see me again, so I'm pretty sure it's over."

"Well, his loss," he said, hoisting his pint of beer in Mark's direction.

"I just thought… you know, he was…" Mark sighed. He'd thought he was _different_ , he'd thought this time, maybe his boyfriend would understand about work, would understand his sense of humour. Would understand _him_. And, yet again, he was disappointed.

"Thought he was what?" Danvers prompted.

He shook his head. He wasn't going to open up to Danvers, not like that. "Look, I appreciate the beer and the pool, but I think I need to go home and drink something a little harder and lose my cool." He looked up at Danvers and, for a moment, thought about inviting him back home with him. If he were similarly inclined, it could be fun. But he was probably straight.

They locked eyes and Mark could see Alex's concern for him. _What the hell?_ he thought to himself. _Nothing ventured, nothing gained._ He swallowed, still looking deep into Alex's eyes. "Would, uh… would you want to come back to my place with me? Have some scotch?"

Alex blinked and Mark held his breath.

"Uh, yeah, sure," Danvers replied. "That sounds like fun," he smiled.

 _Bingo._ "You got your bike?"

He nodded.

Mark grabbed a napkin and scribbled his address down. "Here's my address. See you there in about 20." He gave him a half-smile before heading out to get to his own bike. He hadn't particularly been expecting company, but wasn't remotely upset by it.

On the way home, he broke the speed limit and prayed one of his coworkers wouldn't catch him. "Sorry, Jack, I'm rushing home so I can fuck a gorgeous fed all night long," probably wouldn't be a good enough excuse to get out of a speeding ticket.

Mark got home in record time, parked his bike and ran up the stairs to his second-floor apartment. He fumbled with the keys and scoffed at himself. He was actually _nervous_ about it. About some no-strings attached fun night with Danvers. He finally unlocked the door and let himself in, shutting the door behind him, not even bothering to lock it.

He hopped in the shower for the quickest shower he'd had in a while, wanting to wash the day off of him. He took a mental inventory. Condoms? Yeah, he had a full box in his bedside table. Lube? Yep, he had about half a bottle left of the good water-based stuff. He exhaled and stroked himself once, twice. Oh yeah, he was nervous, but he was _really_ looking forward to Alex's hands on him. Did Alex prefer topping? Bottoming? Or would he not have a strong preference, like himself? Did it depend? Either way, he knew he'd enjoy it, but part of him hoped that Alex preferred topping. He closed his eyes for a moment, imagining Alex behind him, pressing into him, grunting, thrusting, his strong hands on his hips… He shook himself out of his reverie as he turned the water all the way to cold for a moment, literally to cool off, lest he get too excited. As he stepped out of the shower, he debated staying in his towel, but ultimately decided to get dressed. He pulled on a tank-top and his jeans, remaining barefoot. Mark towel-dried his longish hair and attempted tame it with a quick brush and a bit of gel, before heading to the kitchen to get the scotch and a couple of glasses.

He'd just brought them to the living room when someone knocked at the door. He smiled, feeling his stomach somersault.

"It's open!" he called.

The door opened and there stood Danvers, looking absolutely gorgeous from where Mark was standing. "Uh, hi," he said.

"C'mon in," Mark said, gesturing at him. "Take off your jacket, make yourself comfortable," he said, pouring them both a double scotch. "Welcome to _Chez Sawyer_."

He watched him as he took off his jacket and put it and his helmet down on the armchair in the living room. Alex smiled and ran his fingers through his hair as he came into the living room and accepted the drink.

"To being single and having fun," Mark grinned, toasting.

"Uh, yeah, to being single and having fun," Alex replied, clinking his glass. He sat down on the couch and Mark sat beside him as they both took drinks of the alcohol.

Mark turned to look at Danvers. How had he not been sure before? Of _course_ he was gay. He was hot, and he was gay and he was down, apparently. He took another mouthful and thought about what Alex's body was like, how taut his abs probably were, how great his ass looked…

"So," Danvers said, looking over at him.

"So," he smiled back.

"What did you think about your boyfriend?"

He blinked. "What?"

"You said, back at the bar, that you thought… something."

 _Why does he want to talk?_ Mark thought, with a fair amount of annoyance. He took another sip of his scotch. "I thought, uh, he'd be _different_ , you know? From all the others."

"Different how?"

He sighed, not wanting to talk about his ex. "Different like maybe he'd actually, like, _get me_ , y'know? Have a connection with me as a person instead of just a physical one?" He chuckled. "Not, uh, not that there's anything wrong with a physical connection, of course."

Danvers nodded. "Of course." He took a breath. "I can relate. I don't think anyone I've ever dated has _gotten me_."

"It can be tough," Sawyer agreed. "And it's like, fuck it, why bother with feelings when you can just have great sex?"

Alex smiled. "Yeah, I get you." He swallowed. "Can't say I've had tons of that either, though." He shook his head. "My life has been pretty weird."

Mark raised an eyebrow. _What the fuck have I gotten myself into?_

"I mean, I've had sex!" he corrected, quickly. "I've dated, I've had relationships," he insisted.

"But?"

Alex sighed. "My whole life has been about being perfect. Perfect grades. Perfect job. Being the perfect brother. Taking care of Karl."

"And so there's never really been room for you to… be you?"

"Kinda."

Mark saw his opening. He took Alex's glass from him and placed it on the table before swinging a leg over and straddling him.

"Mark?"

He quieted him by kissing him. There was a pause, which lasted long enough to put doubt in Mark's mind about things, and then Alex responded. It was _hot_. It was so _fucking_ hot. From the instant their lips touched, he felt as though he would burn up. His brain was short-circuiting. Alex was practically devouring him, his hands moving to Mark's ass and _gripping_ , while Mark lifted the hem of Alex's shirt. They separated far enough to get Alex's shirt over his head and he moved his arms up for Mark to get the shirt all the way off. He then returned his hands to Mark's ass. He groaned as Alex's hands squeezed.

Mark went back to kissing him, feeling Alex's five o'clock shadow scraping against his own, longer scruff as their faces pressed against each other. His hands moved across Alex's chest, feeling the definition in the pecs, noting there was at least some chest hair. Good, he liked that. His hands moved lower, feeling the six pack of Alex's abs that he _knew_ would be there.

"God, you're so hot," Mark said, pulling his mouth away to spread kisses across Danvers' chest.

"Fuck, Mark, you feel so good," Alex rumbled.

Mark smiled, the validation more refreshing than the shower he'd taken. This was exactly what he needed tonight, to forget about Ryan, to forget about how hurt he was. He pulled off his tank-top and shifted. "I'm gonna make you feel fucking amazing tonight, Alex," he rasped, pausing to suck at his nipple. He pulled back. "You wanna catch or pitch?" He saw the hesitation. "I mean, I'm easy, I'll go either way," he said, reassuringly. "So it's whatever you prefer."

"Uh…" Alex swallowed.

And then, looking into Alex's eyes, he saw a flash of uncertainty. It hit him all at once. "Danvers?"

"Yeah?"

"Danvers… is this your first time with a guy?"

He looked away, down, ashamed.

"Fucking hell, Alex," he sighed, moving off of his lap. "Why did you come back to my place if you've never been with a guy before? Why didn't you _tell_ me?"

He sat forward and put his head in his hands.

Mark pulled his tank-top back on and tossed Alex's shirt at him. "Well?"

Danvers muttered something unintelligible as he grabbed his shirt.

"What was that?"

"I didn't _know_ , okay?" he spat. He pulled his shirt back on.

"What do you mean you didn't know?"

"I mean, I didn't know anything," he said, standing up and pacing.

"What?" His brow furrowed and nothing made any sense.

He blew out a breath. "You want me to spell it out for you, Sawyer? Fine. A," he said, ticking off his index finger on his left hand, "I didn't know you were asking me back to your place for _this_."

Mark looked at him and snorted. "Seriously?"

"B, I didn't know I _wanted_ something like _this_."

" _What_?" he asked, even more confused than he had been.

Alex grabbed his jacket. "I didn't _know_ , Sawyer."

"Didn't know what?"

"That apparently, I'm into dudes."

Mark's jaw dropped.

Alex picked up his helmet and headed for the front door.

"Alex, don't go," he called.

"I'll see ya," he called back, slamming the door behind him.

"Well, fuck," Mark muttered to himself.

***

The next day, Mark checked his phone and didn't see anything from Alex. He sighed. He would have to be the grown-up here, wouldn't he? Dammit. He felt responsible. If Danvers hadn't been lying last night — and why would he have been? — then he was brand new to all of this. He cursed again as he thought, for a moment, about how he felt when he'd first realized he was gay, as a teenager.

He picked up his phone and texted Danvers.

_Hey. I wanted to say that, you know, I've been where you are. It was when I was a kid, but I know how scary and terrifying it can be. If you need to talk, I'm here, Alex._

Mark paused before he sent it, feeling as though the message wasn't quite complete. He didn't want to bring up their kissing and fumbling on the couch; it would make things messy. But he wanted to let him know it would be okay.

_If what you think you discovered about yourself is true, then know that you deserve to live a real, full, happy life, no matter how alone you might feel._

He reread it and added one more line.

_And you're not alone. Okay, Danvers?_

Mark hit send and waited for a response.

***

Danvers didn't respond to that text. Or the others Mark had eventually sent. Or answered the phone when Mark had called. He hadn't even been to the bar.

So when Mark walked into the bar one Friday evening, he was shocked to see Alex sitting at a table with a few people. Including a dude he was sitting rather close to. Promising himself he'd go home and punch the shit out of something, _anything_ , if Alex was _on a date_ , he decided to say hi and make sure Alex was okay.

"Danvers," he called out, from about ten feet away. He smirked to himself as Alex nearly choked on his beer. "Hey, it's been a hot minute. How are ya?"

Wiping beer from his chin, he turned and nodded. "Yeah, good, good, yeah," he stammered, standing up and pulling his jacket closer around him.

Mark smiled ingratiatingly at the people around the table, two women and the blonde, nerdy guy with glasses.

"Um, uh, uh, everybody, this is Mark. Mark, this is, um, everyone. This is Jamie, Winnie and… Karl."

"Oh, the brother!" he said, probably too excitedly. "I've heard so much about you from Alex."

"And I've heard very little about you," Karl said, looking past Mark at Alex.

Mark cleared his throat. "Can I borrow you a minute?" he asked Alex.

"Yeah," he said, and Mark smiled a goodbye to the table.

"Hey, so you haven't returned any of my calls, I've been worried about you," he murmured, as they walked away from the table together.

"I've been working," he said.

"Right, there must have been a lot of rogue aliens at large," he said, sarcastically.

"There always are," he replied, maddeningly.

Mark sighed. "Look, I just wanted to make sure that you were okay, because the last time we saw each other, things got a little complicated."

That got a reaction. Alex turned to face him. "You think you can walk in here and pull me aside to talk about _that_ while I'm out with my brother and our friends?"

"Well, maybe I wouldn't feel like I _had_ to if you'd answered a single text or call," he spat. "And besides, I introduced you to this bar, so don't go getting all superior on me. You're the one who said the people here had made questionable life choices, so it's not like I came in expecting to see you."

"I'm doing fine, Sawyer," he managed. Mark could tell that Danvers was visibly trying to keep himself calm.

"Are you?" He put his hands on his hips. "Look, regardless of what happened between us, you're still my _friend_ , Alex. And I want to make sure you're okay."

"I said I'm _fine_ , Sawyer. Fuck. Just… go, okay?"

Mark could see his jaw clenching, could see just the hint of tears forming in his eyes. "Answer the damn phone when I call you next time and I'll leave right now."

Danvers forced a swallow. "Fine."

"See ya 'round, Danvers," he said, turning and walking out of the bar. Here he was, trying to _help_ , and he wasn't making it easy for him. As he left the bar, he mused over the thought that Alex Danvers was, hands down, _the_ most infuriating person he'd ever met.

***

The next morning, as Mark made his second cup of coffee, he checked the time. It was late morning, practically noon, so he decided to call Alex. Coffee made, he sat down at his kitchen table, took a deep breath as he tapped Alex's number on his phone and then brought it to his ear.

To his credit, Danvers answered, as he promised.

"Sawyer."

"Alex," he said. "How are you?"

"I'm fine."

"Yeah, I think that's a load of shit," he commented.

He heard Alex sigh heavily. "I've been avoiding it, okay?"

"Thought so."

"That sounds a lot like 'I told you so,' Sawyer. You're not one of those, are you?"

"I'm not," he said, "but I know deflecting when I see it, so quit it."

Another sigh.

"Alex. We don't need to talk about anything like _us_ or whatever," he said, scrunching his face up. Oh man, it had been _so_ hot and _so_ good until it had been horrible. He shook his head. "But if you want to, like, talk about _you_ …"

"I've been avoiding it, so I don't really want to talk about it, no."

"Have you talked to anyone about it? Your brother? Your dad? Anyone?"

"Not a damn other person, Mark. No one. At all."

He rubbed his face with his hand. "Well, looks like you're my responsibility, then."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean… I was sort of responsible for this, uh… realization, right?"

"I guess."

"So I can't let you realize something of that… that _magnitude_ and then abandon you." He took a sip of his coffee. "I, uh… I know what it's like to be abandoned for finding out who you are. And it sucks. And, uh…" He cleared his throat. "I don't want that for you. I want it to be _better_ for you."

There was silence for a moment. "What happened to you?" Danvers rumbled.

It wasn't something Mark wanted to talk about at all, but it was the first response from Alex that had been remotely open to continuing the conversation. He took a breath. "I came out when I was 14. Or, well, I guess I was forced out."

"Shit," he breathed.

"Yeah. I, uh, I really liked this guy, Elias Wilkie. He was so cool and we'd hang out in his basement, smoking cigarettes and watching horror movies." He exhaled. "And I, uh, put a card in his locker telling him I liked him and asking him to the Valentine's Day dance."

"Oh, Mark."

He took a drink of his coffee. "Yeah. Uh, he, um, he showed it to his parents… and they told my parents and when I came home, my mom had a suitcase packed. She told me to get in the car and she took me to my uncle's. And I lived with him until I went to college."

"That's horrible," Alex said, the edge gone in his voice. "I'm so sorry. Did you… did you ever make up with your parents?"

"I haven't spoken to them since."

"You're kidding."

"I mean, why would I? My mom's last words to me were that I shamed her, so… No real desire to talk to her or my dad after that."

"Those bastards," Alex growled. "Fuck, that's awful, Mark. I'm sorry."

"It was a long time ago," he replied, dismissively.

"It's still terrible. You were just a kid."

"I know."

There was a pause. "I bet I could beat up your parents for you."

Despite himself, he laughed. "It's okay, Alex, I don't need you to go fight my old battles for me."

"You let me know if you change your mind. I'll bring Superman."

He smiled. "You're great at deflecting."

"Practice makes perfect. And I see you're pretty good at it, too."

He chuckled. "Point taken. But I didn't tell you that story to make you feel bad for me. I told you that because coming out sucked for me. So if you're coming out, or questioning, or wondering, or confused as shit… Alex… Talk to me."

There was a lengthy silence and Mark sat there, drinking his coffee and waiting.

"How…"

He waited.

"How did you know?" Alex asked, exhaling.

"It was Elias," he said, taking his coffee mug and going to sit in his favourite armchair in the living room. "He was the first guy I _knew_ I liked in a way that was different from how I was supposed to. I just… I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to, uh, be close to him, but I didn't understand it at first." He sipped at his coffee. "I didn't like, want to make out with him. I just wanted to be with him. Like, all the time."

"Huh."

"And then I realized that the feeling in my pit of my stomach when I was around him, the butterflies? That was excitement, that was _attraction_. And I suddenly understood what every other boy in my class was feeling for the girls at school, or for Tamsin Cruise."

"So not liking Tamsin Cruise is a sign?" he chuckled.

"For me it was," he grinned. "No one understood why I didn't think she was hot, least of all me. Until Elias."

Alex exhaled. "At the risk of this getting awkward…"

"It's okay," he assured him.

He paused. "You annoyed the shit out of me at first, Sawyer."

He laughed. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Alex was laughing, too. "No, really, I swear, I wanted to punch you in your dimpled face on several occasions."

Mark was beaming. "I tend to have that effect on certain condescending-as-fuck feds."

"Ha, ha," he said, sarcastically. He blew out a breath. "But there was, uh, something about you. And I, um, I liked working with you. Then hanging out with you. Texting with you. Drinking with you."

"And?"

"And it wasn't until that night, uh, when I realized _why_ I liked all those things with you. Why I couldn't get you out of my head."

"So you, uh… liked me?" Mark wasn't really sure how Alex felt about him now, and this wasn't the time for a confession of that nature.

"Ugh, Sawyer, this isn't making it easier," he grumbled.

"Sorry, sorry. Go on," he winced.

"That night, it… It all happened so fast. And like, in retrospect, fuck, was I ever an idiot for not realizing why you invited me home with you."

Mark said nothing aloud but nodded vigourously to himself.

"And…"

He stayed silent.

"And I really liked it when you kissed me, okay?"

Mark let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "It was the first time you'd kissed a guy, right?"

"Yeah." He paused. "Wait, was, uh, was it that obvious?"

He laughed. "Not at all. The, uh, hesitation at first was my only hint until I figured it out…"

"Oh God, okay, stop, can we please forget that night happened? Please?"

"You didn't _know_ , Alex. It's fine."

"So fucking awkward."

"You think that's awkward? What about me? I almost seduced a dude who doesn't know the difference between catching and pitching," he joked.

"Just so we're clear, I _have_ googled things since then," he muttered.

Mark laughed. "Good, good." He pondered his next words. "So you haven't _completely_ avoided things, then?"

There was a long pause. "Fuck you, _Detective._ Fuck you and your _detecting_."

"Guilty as charged," he said, brightly.

"I… yeah. I looked it up. And it all seemed so… I don't know, clinical? Like, reading about it feels very removed from, uh, that night."

Mark chewed his lip. "Okay, this is gonna sound really self-serving, but I promise it's not, and you don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"Okay…"

"Have you, uh, thought about me? Or other guys? Since then? In that way?"

Silence.

"Just… guys are visual creatures. So—"

"I'm aware, dude."

He stopped. "Right, so, uh, yeah, I mean, you'll…" He exhaled. "In my experience, at least, your body will know before you do, basically."

"You're saying that I'll know what label to use for myself based on what turns me on."

Mark winced again. This was getting super awkward. "Not that labels are necessary. You're just starting to figure things out, figure out what works for you. Who… who you are inside. Who you're _meant_ to be."

Alex blew out a breath. "Well, uh, thanks, Mark. I… I guess I needed to talk to someone after all."

"Sure," he said.

"Did… did you mean what you said last night?"

He frowned. "Did I mean what?"

"Are, uh… are we still friends? I mean, I didn't ruin things that night?"

"Alex," he smiled. "We're still friends. You didn't ruin anything that night. No, really, what endangered our friendship was ignoring me for the better part of a month…"

"Shit, I'm sorry. This… this shit is hard."

"I'm kidding, Danvers. I know it's tough."

He sighed again.

"So I'm here for you. As a friend."

"Thanks, Mark," he said, sincerely.

"Anytime. I'll see you at the bar soon?"

"How about tomorrow?"

He smiled. "Tomorrow. 7pm?"

"Sounds good."

"All right. Have a good one, Alex. I'll see you then."

"Bye, Mark. And thanks."

"Bye." He pulled the phone from his ear and disconnected. Despite the awkward moments, that had gone pretty well, he thought.

***

Mark arrived at the bar just before seven the next night. He was wearing his favourite blue jeans, a tight, black t-shirt, with an unbuttoned reddish plaid button-up over it, along with his favourite leather jacket. He headed over to the pool tables and pulled off his jacket and set it on the nearby standing table before he selected a pool cue.

He was just racking up the balls when he caught sight of Alex walking in.

"Danvers," he called.

Alex turned and nodded to him and made his way over, pulling off his own leather jacket. Baby gay or not, Danvers was hot. He was wearing black jeans and a simple blue jean shirt, but damn, he looked good. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing his powerful forearms and Mark had to force himself to look away from his hands.

"Hey," he said. "What are you having?"

"Oh, no, man, it's on me," Mark argued.

"Can… no, just… let me, okay? Least I can do for talking your ear off yesterday."

He shrugged. "That's what friends do for each other," he said. "But if you insist, just a beer to start."

"I insist. One beer coming up."

The table was set when Alex came back with their beers and Mark let Alex break. The balls scattered across the table, but Alex hadn't sunk one. Mark smiled and took his turn, sinking the six and then the four before missing his shot on the seven.

They played three games, Mark only winning once, just chatting about random things. Work, television shows, movies, music. It was a pleasant time. It was light and fun.

They got a booth after and ordered some food from Darryl and Mark noticed Alex watching him walk away with their order.

"What's that about?" he asked, smiling.

"What?"

"Darryl."

Alex blushed. "I don't know."

"It's okay for you to think he's hot," he said quietly.

"I don't think he's hot," he replied at the same volume. "I was just… Never mind, it's dumb."

"Tell me."

Alex rolled his eyes. "I was wondering why _you_ thought he was hot. Or whatever. Since you used to date him."

Mark chuckled. "Okay, yeah, sure." He looked over at his ex. "Darryl's not my regular type," he began, "but we were dancing one night, and then we were kissing and… uh, he kissed really well." He smiled. "That was attractive, for sure."

Alex nodded. "So what kind of dudes are you normally into?"

Mark took a long drink of his beer. The truth was, Alex was 100% his type. He was tall, but not overly built. He had some body hair, but not a ton. Mark shrugged. "I guess, uh, someone generally taller than me, not that that's hard to do. And in shape, but he doesn't need to be a weight-lifter or whatever." He smiled. "Dude has to be smart, too. And funny. The ability to get my somewhat warped and sarcastic sense of humour is a major bonus."

He nodded again. "So, uh…" He was blushing again.

"Just ask, Alex," he laughed.

"That, uh, that night…"

Mark braced himself for an awkward question.

"That night, you said you could go either way."

He nodded, trying to figure out where this was going to go.

"Is that… uh…" He blew out a breath, nervously. "Is that on a person-by-person basis or, uh, an encounter-by-encounter basis?"

He laughed. "Great question. For some, it's person-by-person. For me, it's usually encounter-by-encounter. Sometimes, I feel one way, sometimes I feel another way."

"And does that change a lot?"

"Well, with Darryl, for example, I mostly deferred to what he wanted, since I don't generally have a strong preference either way. With my last boyfriend, he, uh, he enjoyed receiving more."

Alex nodded with understanding. "So it can depend on things like mood, your partner, that sort of thing?"

"Yeah," Mark said, finishing his beer. "Why do you ask?"

"I've been, uh, thinking, I guess. Just trying to wonder where I fit in. If I fit in anywhere." He took a drink. "Like you said, what works for me."

"Any progress?"

He shrugged. "I mean… I'm just trying to make sense of it all. It's so _complicated_ ," he sighed. "You know, I was up all night, just _thinking_ about it. And if I'm being honest? I realized that, you know, maybe I've had _thoughts_ like this before…"

"Yeah?"

Alex swigged at his beer. "Yeah. My, uh…" He blew out a breath. "My best friend, in high school, Vic Donahue. I used to _love_ sleeping over at his house." He paused. "In his room." He swallowed. "In his bed."

Mark listened.

"I think, uh, I think I _felt_ something then, and it… it _scared_ me. You know?"

"Mm hmm," Mark said, tilting his head, smiling, nodding in understanding.

"I… I shoved that memory down so deep inside that… it's like it never happened." He took a breath. "I'm remembering _stuff_ like that, now."

"And?"

"And what? I don't know how to do this, Mark."

"Well, don't worry about labels or anything yet. It can take time."

"Time for _what_?"

"For you to figure it out. You could be straight, or gay, bi, or pan, asexual or aromantic, or some combination. Maybe for you, straight sex is totally great and fine—"

"It's not," he said, looking down at his beer.

"Or not," he added. "And either way, it's fine. For me, I base my orientation on who I connect with and who I'm attracted to. And sex, for me, is about having fun and making each other feel good. Or it can be about connecting with someone. Ideally, you know, when I'm in a relationship with someone I love? Then it's both."

Alex nodded, still playing with the label on his bottle of beer.

"I know, it's not easy. It's okay, Alex. Give yourself a break."

He scoffed at that. "I've just realized that I might not be straight, after spending nearly 30 years on this planet. I just… I just want to _know_ , you know? Definitively. I _want_ a label." He looked up. "What do you think I am?"

He laughed. "Oh, no, no way, I am _not_ giving you a label."

"What? Why not?"

"Everyone's identity is _their own_. It's not my place to do that."

"But you have to have an idea, don't you?" He was nearly pleading.

He sighed. "Even if I did, and I don't, it wouldn't be my place." He swigged at his beer. "When I was, 19, in college, I met a guy, Nick. And he was cute and new to all the freedoms college afforded him. He'd grown up in a small town, like me. He was Catholic, like I'd been raised. And, you know, we got to be good friends, and I knew he was straight, so I didn't do anything… until he did."

Alex raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, this extremely Catholic dude, who told me he had prayed for me, on multiple occasions, to stop being gay, launched himself at me. And I stopped it and made him wait a full day to make sure he was sure."

"Wow, that must have been tough."

"Yeah, especially since I'd had a huge crush on him. But he said he was sure. And so we dated for pretty much all my sophomore and junior years."

"And?"

"Well, now he's married to a woman and they have two kids."

"So he was bi," Alex concluded.

"Ah, no."

He frowned. "But he was with you for two years and now he's with a woman. Is he, uh, pansexual?"

Mark shook his head. "No. He's straight."

Alex laughed. "How the hell does he explain those two years? Temporary insanity?"

He shrugged. "Whatever Nick says to himself to justify it isn't my business. He identifies as straight. So we just have to accept that."

"But you and he… did you…?"

"Did we have sex? Yes. A lot of very good, very hot, very, _very_ gay sex."

"So he's at least bi!"

"You're missing the point, Danvers," he said, calmly, rationally. "If Nick says he's straight, then he's straight."

Alex's shoulders slumped as he suddenly understood. "Oh." He nodded. "So because we don't know what I say I am… no one, not even you, can tell me what I am."

"Exactly. And, also, no matter how completely ludicrous it seems to me — and to you — that Nick is straight, we have to respect that."

"So you admit it's ridiculous?"

"Completely," he laughed. "But, in his defense, he never wavered from identifying as a straight man, not once."

"How did he explain his relationship with you?"

"He said I was the exception to all the rules."

He smiled. "That's sweet."

"He was a very sweet guy," Mark allowed. He shrugged. "And that's how I learned to respect people's labels for themselves."

"So how do you label yourself? You, uh, I think you said you grew up non-white and non-straight?"

He nodded. "I said that because I wanted to highlight what I _wasn't_ , compared to everyone else in town."

"Ah, because everyone else was white and probably straight."

"Right. So generally, I label myself as a gay man, though I also use queer as a more inclusive term."

"Huh."

Darryl came back with their food then and the conversation drifted back to more mundane topics.

"Thanks," Alex said, as they headed out of the bar together. "I had a good time."

"Me too," Mark replied. "You have my number. Text or call if you have questions, okay?"

"Yeah."

"No, Danvers, I'm serious. I'm here for you. As a friend. Okay?"

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. Thank you," he said, putting his helmet on. "Get home safe."

"You too."

As Mark watched him go, he smiled. Despite being attracted to him, he felt as though this could be the start of a great friendship.

***

Over the course of the next ten days or so, Alex would randomly text Mark with questions. It was mostly questions to do with Mark and his history, which he figured Alex was sort of using as a roadmap for his own experience. Mark knew it was a little weird and he certainly wouldn't have been quite so forthcoming with any other friend, but he hoped it was helpful.

_After the Elias thing, when did you start dating?_

_\- The next school year, when I transferred to the area high school that served something like four neighbouring towns. I met a guy and we would actually go to the movies, make out, steal kisses at school._

_Was Nick your first time having sex?_

_\- Uh, no. :) I was having sex before college. Come to think of it, probably broke more than a few state laws because I was under eighteen. Also, engaging in, uh, certain acts that the law declared was not legal for someone of my age to participate in, if it was legal at all._

_How did you know what you liked?_

_\- Experimentation. Both by myself and with boyfriends. Uh, porn, I guess, too. Even though it's ridiculously unrealistic, some of the, well, the concepts, could be… enlightening? Also terrifying, so if you're looking at… stuff, be careful. Don't want you to scar yourself for life. ;)_

They met up the following Friday, at the bar. They'd played some pool over the past couple of weeks, but Alex hadn't brought up any of their texting or any other deep discussions, so Mark had followed his lead.

That night, Alex walked in, smiling.

"Danvers!" he said, returning the smile. "What's up?"

"I…" He blew out a breath. "I think I found my label."

"Yeah?" He didn't press. Danvers would tell him what it was when he was ready.

"Yeah," he smiled. "And I told Karl."

"Get out! That's awesome, man!" He put his cue down and gave him a double high-five. "I'm buying, all night. What're you having?"

"Start with a beer, I guess?"

"Coming up." He smiled. "I'm so proud of you. And happy for you."

As Mark waited at the bar for the drinks, he watched Alex rack the table. How had it only been a couple of months since that night? That night when they'd stood at this very spot and he'd taken a shot, potentially ready to exchange their budding friendship for a night of sex. Now, as he looked at Danvers, he couldn't imagine _not_ having this friendship in his life. When had one of the most infuriating people he'd ever met become so damn important to him?

He returned to the table and handed Alex his beer.

"So?" Alex asked.

"So what?"

"Aren't you going to ask me?"

Mark chuckled. "Up to you if you want to share, Danvers. I'm not going to be the one to put you on the spot."

He swigged at his beer. "There you go again."

"What?"

"Being considerate."

"Yeah, well…" He sipped at his beer.

"You've been really helpful, Mark. Thank you," Alex said, sincerely.

"Happy to help." He smiled over at him. "So?"

"So…" He swallowed. "I, uh… I think… I mean… I'm pretty sure I'm gay."

It had been what Mark was expecting, but it was good to hear Alex say it for himself. "Yeah?"

He nodded. "And I told Karl, and he wasn't just okay with it, he was _really_ okay with it."

Mark smiled. "I'm really glad you told him. I know you two are close."

"Yeah, it's been hard not to talk to him about it." He blew out a breath. "I feel… God, like a kid. A dumb kid, who doesn't know anything."

"Well, everything is changing for you… and everything's gonna feel really heightened, and, uh, shiny."

He nodded. "So," he exhaled, "what… how do I…" He shrugged. "I don't know what to do."

"How about you break?" Mark grinned, indicating the pool table.

He laughed, a delightful sound, coming from deep within his chest. "And worry about the rest later? Yeah, I can do that."

***

It was the day after Thanksgiving and Mark's shoulder was still bugging him. He picked up his phone.

"You got any fancy drugs you can give me for my shoulder, or should I just use some over-the-counter crap?" he texted.

"Is it bothering you?"

"Gee, let me think…" Mark laughed as he sent the response.

"I have an idea," Danvers replied. "You're home?"

"Yeah."

"I'll be there soon."

"Danvers, no, it's okay, stay with your family."

"I'm at home, Dad left today. It's fine. I'll be there soon."

Mark looked down at himself, wearing nothing but a pair of dark blue, NCPD sweatpants. "Should probably at least try to get a shirt on," he muttered.

Half an hour later, there was a knock on the door. Mark, now wearing a matching t-shirt, peered through the peephole to see Danvers standing there, with pizza and beer.

"Hey," he said, opening the door.

"Hi," Danvers said. "Hungry?"

"Yes," he chuckled, opening the door all the way. "Come in."

He did, heading to the kitchen. Mark watched as he put the box into the oven, presumably to keep it in a place that wouldn't let the heat escape, and put the six-pack of beer in the fridge.

"All right, let's check out your shoulder."

"I think it's fine," he said, "I think I'm just being a baby about it."

"I'll be the judge of that," Alex said, looking around. "You got better lights in the bathroom?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, let's go."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm fine, it's just a little sore."

"Would you just let me, the actual _doctor_ , look?"

"Fine, _Doctor_ Danvers," he joked.

They entered the small bathroom and Mark flipped the seat and lid down on the toilet before sitting himself down on it.

"Shirt off," instructed Alex.

He got his left arm free and Alex helped him pull it over his head and down his other arm. He took the shirt and hung it by its neck on the doorknob.

"All right, turn a bit," he instructed, as he looked up at the lights and repositioned one slightly to give him a better look.

Mark swallowed nervously. The last time Danvers had been over had been that night. Granted, this wasn't exactly a sexy situation, but he still enjoyed the closeness.

With exquisite gentleness, Alex carefully pulled the medical tape off his skin. Despite his care, it still took with it a bit of hair.

"Sorry," he murmured.

"It's okay."

Alex peeled back the gauze pad that covered the wound. His fingers were warm and strong and he liked having Alex so nearby. His fingers gently palpated the area around the stitches.

"Ouch," he muttered.

"Sorry," he apologized again, looking more closely. "Does this hurt?" he asked, gently pressing on his right pectoral muscle, beneath the wound.

"Shit," he breathed. "Yes."

Alex nodded and reapplied the gauze patch. "You're fine, the muscle is just _really_ unhappy with part of it, you know, being vaporized." He smiled as he taped it back up again. "Over-the-counter stuff should be okay, but I brought three doses of the good stuff for you, just so you can get a good night of sleep, if it bothers you."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic pill bottle with six pills inside. He put it down on the counter. "Don't mix it with alcohol," he warned.

Mark nodded and stood. "Cool, thanks," he said.

"I'll get the food. You want a beer or you thinking you'll take a dose later?"

"Nah, I should be fine. I'll have a beer."

Danvers nodded and walked out of the bathroom.

Mark grabbed his shirt with his left arm and, though it took him a bit, pulled it back on without upsetting his shoulder.

"So your dad took it okay?" he asked, picking up their conversation from the day before at the DEO.

Alex was pulling dishes from the cabinet. "Yeah," he said, "surprisingly." He chuckled. "He already knew."

"Did Karl tell him?"

He shook his head as he shut the cabinet door. "He just knew." Alex pulled the pizza box out of the oven. "Apparently, I mention you. A lot."

"Oh boy." He didn't know what that meant or how to feel about it.

He laughed. "Yeah." He piled the plates on the pizza box. "Grab the beers?"

He nodded, and they made their way to the small dining area.

"So yeah, he figured it out because, uh, I guess I couldn't shut up about you over the past few months." He twisted off the cap of a bottle and put it in front of Mark, before doing the same to his own.

"And he was okay?"

Alex took a sip of his beer and thought about it. "I mean, yeah. I don't… I don't know how it could have gone better, really. Obviously, I _definitely_ wanted to die, right then and there, of course."

Mark laughed. "Oh man, I bet."

"But no, it was okay. I didn't even have to say it. He said, uh… let me see." He cleared his throat and lowered his voice a notch. "Oh, my dear Alexander… Why is it so hard for you to tell me?"

Mark snickered around a mouthful of pizza. "Does he sound like that?"

"Sort of," he grinned. "And then I was like, you know, I'm afraid of letting you down. And then _he_ said…" He lowered his voice again. "Why would your being gay ever let me down?" He blew out a breath. "So. You know. Yeah. It was… it was good. He even, like, hugged me after that."

"A rare thing?"

"Yeah. Especially after my mom, uh, well, I was going to say died, but I guess the more accurate term here is went missing. After Mom was gone, there wasn't a lot of physical affection in the house."

Mark nodded, chewing thoughtfully. "Did he ask any questions?"

"Before leaving, he asked me what the deal was with you."

He shook his head. "Oh boy. What did you say?"

Alex looked over at him and blew out a breath. "Well, uh, that's the thing."

"What?"

"I told him the truth, that, uh, that we… we're not like dating or anything."

Mark nodded, but furrowed his brow. What was Alex getting at?

He watched Alex take a healthy drink from his beer. "But, uh, I told him the truth, which is that… this whole being gay thing… it's not just some, I don't know, thought experiment."

Mark wanted to interject, ask questions, but just listened.

"So I told him that it had something to do with you and that you were, well, the reason I started asking myself these questions."

He nodded.

"But Mark…" He ran his fingers through his hair, nervously. "Um." He swallowed.

"Hey. It's okay," he said, reassuringly. "You can tell me anything."

He gave him a grateful smile. "See, there you go, being all considerate and shit again."

Mark grinned and hefted his beer bottle in Alex's direction before taking a swig.

Alex stood and paced for a few moments. "The thing is, Mark, even though I finally _get_ me, and even though that isn't _about_ you… you're the reason it all feels real. You know?"

He nodded. "Yeah, that makes sense."

He took a breath. "And you got hurt and, well, I started thinking, you know, life is… life is too short."

"You don't need to tell me that, Danvers, I'm the one who got shot," he chuckled.

He smiled at that and then took another breath. "Mark, I, uh, I know that I've asked, many times, if we could just forget that night ever happened."

"What night?" Mark grinned. "I don't know what you're talking about?"

He laughed. "Dork."

"Nerd."

He smiled and cleared his throat. "As, uh, awkward as everything that night was, you… treated me with kindness. Even after I completely ghosted you for weeks."

He shrugged.

"So, really, I don't _want_ to forget about that night. It was… Mark, it was the first time I felt real desire." He swallowed. "I might not have known why you invited me back here, but once you started kissing me, I _really_ wanted you." He blew out a breath. "That night… hasn't left me yet. And I think about it. And I think about you and I think… I think about doing it again."

Mark blinked. "I'm sorry, you…"

"I think about doing it again." He swallowed. "And I totally get it if you're not into me. Or, I don't know, I'm just too new for you and that's not your thing." He blew out a breath. "I just… had to tell you."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He looked up at Alex, poor, nervous Alex, pacing, running his fingers through his hair. "I don't want to forget about that night, either."

He stopped. "Really?"

He nodded. "I invited you back because I think you're hot, Danvers. That hasn't changed."

Alex smiled. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He smiled back. "But, what has changed, was that I was ready to trade our new friendship for just a night in bed with you. I was…" He trailed off and shook his head. "My boyfriend had just broken up with me and I was feeling shitty and lonely and I thought, why not?" He stood. "But I don't want to trade what we have now for a night together."

Alex frowned.

"I know, that's not what you're proposing."

"No, it's not."

"It's what I thought I wanted that night, but things have changed."

Alex nodded.

Mark walked over to him. "I think you want to try this whole dating thing. With me."

He nodded again. "And if you're good with it, then yes, I'm sure." He smiled. "Please don't make me wait like you made Nick wait."

Mark laughed. "I won't, I promise." He reached out and cupped Alex's right cheek in his left hand, softly stroking the skin there, Alex's rough stubble prickling against his thumb. "I just… I need to know you're _sure_ , because…" He swallowed. "I care about you. A lot. And I… you know, I don't want to imagine my life without you in it. Even if that's just as a friend. I don't want to risk our friendship for something more intense that could just end."

He put his own hand over Mark's. "I care about you, too. This isn't just… an experiment for me. I'm not going anywhere. Promise."

"This coming from the guy who ghosted me for a month…"

Alex laughed. "I was scared. I'm not scared now." He gazed down at Mark.

"You're not gonna freak out on me, are you?"

"Probably," he admitted, "but I know that if I do, you'll treat me the same way you have for the last two months — with kindness and compassion."

Mark's heart felt so full. What Alex was saying was true. It wouldn't be like any other relationship of his, he'd fight for this one. He'd fight for Alex. He swallowed and gazed up at him. "You're sure?" he whispered, one last time.

"I'm sure," he rumbled.

Mark pulled him down and pressed their lips together. There was no hesitation this time, not like that night. Alex kissed him back, actively, fully, passionately. Mark groaned quietly as Alex's tongue brushed against his own. They kissed for several more moments before Mark pulled back, breathless.

"Was that okay?" Alex asked.

"That was more than okay," he replied, slipping his good arm around Alex's waist and resting his head on his chest. As Alex's arms came up to hold him, he smiled. "We'll take it slow, okay?" he murmured.

He nodded. "Probably for the best," he said, "even though I've been dreaming about spending the night with you for a while now."

A shiver ran down Mark's spine and he pulled Alex into another, passionate kiss.

"I thought we were slowing down?" Alex asked once they broke apart again.

"Slowing down, yes. Stopping? No," Mark corrected him, with a smile. As he led a chuckling Alex to the couch in the living room, Mark realized something. For the first time in a long while, probably since his relationship with Emmet, he was starting things off with someone thinking about the best-case scenario instead of the worst-case. Alex got that work was an enormous part of his life. He even got his jokes. Alex just _understood_ him. It was new, and it was amazing and, he mused, as Alex kissed him again, he couldn't wait to fall madly in love with this man.

**Author's Note:**

> One thing that supremely annoys me about this is that all their last names would be completely different unless this was a matriarchal society, which it's not, but I kept the last names the same. Mostly, that's because there's no information whatsoever on what anyone's mom's maiden name is, canonically. So I said to hell with it and that's how we have a Danvers and a Sawyer.
> 
> **Each part of the series is a one-shot. There will be no second chapters or continuations within the series, so please don’t ask. :) Once I’m done with all the Earths, I may do a smaller collection based on some of my favourites from this series but that’s a long way off.**


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